Something from Nothing

Hillside View of Opuwo

Back in the states a nine-hour car ride meant a trip from Michigan to Rochester, across the border and through Canada. It was a drive to Chicago and then some, or six trips from the city to the shore. It was legroom and traffic. Roadside stands and Top 40 Radio: windows rolled down and music turned up.

But here in Namibia the nine-hour car ride is a different animal entirely. It’s one that travels 12-deep with two screaming babies. It packs a variety of cooked (and stinking) meats for snacks, and includes two roadside breakdowns. It covers just 350 km. But on flooded out dirt roads, with Damara hymns blasting.

It leaves you wishing, more than anything, for transport of your own.

I spent the last week in Opuwo, the capital of the Kunene region, meeting with Ministry of Health officials and a Nam 26er who heads up the IEC (Information Education Communication) Committee for the region. It was supposed to help me learn more about the job I’m charged with doing over the next two years. After a month at site, Peace Corps (and my supervisor) must have finally decided it was time for a little direction. (Plus, it gave me an excuse to see some of Nam 27 friends and visit a new place, too.)

Twelve thousand people live in Opuwo, which makes it roughly twice the size of Khorixas. Though in the same region, the two places are dramatically different. Opuwo is built into a hillside with scenic views of Namibia—vast plains and towering plateaus. Mud hut settlements line the road into town, and Herero and Himba make up a majority of the population. Opuwo is "typical" Africa … what I imagined before coming to Namibia. The Himba women, with their traditional dress, red clay skin, intricate jewelry and exposed chests, look straight out of the pages of National Geographic.

The week felt like a second round of shadowing (which we did as trainees back in November). But this time it was job-specific. Kate, a Nam 26er who’s been working on IEC development in Opuwo for about six months, introduced us to the RMO (Regional Medical Officer), who explained what my job is for the next two yeas. We also went around to the regional Red Cross, Medicos del Mundo and a couple of other NGOs.

View from the Top

Kate has a western office, complete with a computer, scanner, printer and even air conditioning. It’s a far cry from the bare essentials (desk, chair, shelf) of my work space in Khorixas. Yet she and I are charged with the same task. In addition to general health promotion—community outreach, educational programs, demonstrations and program facilitation—we should both be developing educational and informational materials for our districts. The only difference is, she has the resources.

As I’m quickly learning, Peace Corps is an exercise in creating something out of nothing.

In addition to the obvious challenges presented by my non-existent access to technology, there are still more obstacles to bringing health messages to the masses. For starters, English is considered Namibia’s national language, but few people in Khorixas understand enough to grasp the complicated messages about HIV, diabetes and TB I’m trying to convey. And while most people here are fluent in Damara, it’s primarily an oral language. This means few are literate in their native tongue. Kate has relied on images alone for some of her most recent campaigns, but has come to realize that the western interpretation of pictures and stories is often very different from Namibian understandings and assumptions.

So it seems, I must build my place here from the ground up. I will need to solicit donations for a resource library for the hospital, so I can research the topics I am educating the community about. (It will also be good for nurses and doctors, who as of now, have no place to reference current medical studies or reports.) And I’ll need to find my own means of securing a computer, printer and scanner before I can begin to generate IEC materials. I'll also have to find local artists to create images for these brochures, posters and pamphlets. This is not to say the task is impossible. Rather, that it is, without a doubt, a process. One that reminds me of why we are here for two years.

I'm trying to move forward on this long-term project, but in the meantime, I’m focusing on the non-material production part of my job here: the health promotion and outreach. It's the part I expect to enjoy most.

I started Windows of Hope—a life skills, health and sexual education curriculum that’s sponsored by the Ministry of Education—on Monday. I’ll be teaching 40 grade-7 learners about HIV, sexuality, rape, relationships and their changing bodies. I’m continuing with Youth Leads, the after-school sports and leadership program with the SCORE volunteer, and planning for an Independence Day soccer and volleyball tournament for secondary school kids. I helped put together a Valentine’s Day event to promote HIV testing and spent the last few days in the field doing awareness campaigns. In May, Jessica and I will start our girls club, which will focus on self-esteem, self-respect, leadership and long-term goal setting for upper-primary learners.

I guess the good news about creating something from nothing is, there's always more to do.

Sunset in Opuwo

Dear Namibia ...

There are a lot of funny (and at times crazy) things about adjusting to life here in Namibia. And while they can be difficult to capture and even harder to explain, I thought this did a pretty good job of outlining the insanity that is life as a PCV in an unfamiliar land.

It’s not original material (I swiped it from a member of CATJAR) but I thought it was definitely worth sharing—even if it's for nothing more than a good laugh.

Dear Hot Water,
Where are youuuu? I miss you. Did I upset you somehow? Did I not call enough? Am I spending too much time with Cold Water? Please believe me when I say Cold Water means nothing to me compared to you.
Did I not give you enough attention? Maybe I didn’t say it enough when we were together. But I love you. More than you’ll ever know.
Maybe you could drop in for a visit sometime soon? Anytime you want. No invitation necessary. Surprise me. For the love of God, please come back.
Let’s get back together. I promise I’ll treat you right, baby.
Faithfully yours,
-R

Dear Jar of Mayo In My Fridge,
I wish I had noticed you expired THREE YEARS AGO before I mixed you with my (very expensive) tuna. I’m going to teach you a lesson… Who are we kidding? We both know I can’t afford to throw you away. You win again, Mayonnaise, you win again.
Maybe if I write “TANGY” above your label, I can trick myself into thinking you’re supposed to taste like that.
Duped again,
-R

Dear Knorr's Mutton and Vegetable Soup Packet,
I made you as a sauce to put over my leftover pasta. That was about two hours ago. And I still want to vom. I guess it's my fault really. I didn't read the signs. Sign number one: You're powdered soup. Sign number two: You're mutton flavored. Sign number three: I bought you from the same store as my "tangy" mayo.
That's the last time I'm going to think to myself "You should be more adventurous" in a grocery store.
Ugh,
-R

Dear Mosiquito that ALWAYS manages to get into my net,
I just don’t understand how it’s possible. The net is closed allll day and alll night long. Are you a magical mosquito? Teach me your ways.
And then kill yourself. Because you keep me awake with paranoia all night long. Not to mention that awful buzzing.
Dreaming of you. Jerk,
-R

Dear Electricity,
My, my, my. Aren’t we testy? At first I thought you only went out after a good, heavy rain. That made a lot of sense to me. Then it so happens, you also turn off when it’s too windy. Ok, that’s a little temperamental, but I’ll let it be. But come on, man, what’s going on with you today? Is it too sunny out for you or something? Is it just too nice out to function? Did you think to yourself, “It’s really gorgeous out today. To hell with it, I’m going to take the day off!” ? Well let me tell you something, Mister, you take enough vacations as it is. Get back here.
Peeved,
-R

Dear Male Colleague/Neighbor,
No, my hammock is NOT big enough for us to spoon in.
You get creepier every day,
-R

Dear 7-hour time difference,
You suck.
Eloquently yours,
R